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256 "I don't think you need be afraid of the poppies," he says, looking at my untidy ruffled locks; "they looked well enough the other day."

"I only wore that wreath across the field out of sheer bravado," I say laughing, "because I had been told not to."

"Who told you not to?" he asks quickly; "who had the right to?"

"No one!" I say, turning my head away; at least, no one in particular."

We walk in silence up the little steep path that leads towards the upper terraces. In front of us are Mrs. Fleming and Mr. Silvestre; following behind, Alice and Lord St. John: the men have returned from shooting early to-day. I am wondering what my dress will cost, and whether boughten poppies are expensive, also whether they are as handsome as their living sisters. After all I think I shall take Milly's advice. Papa could not possibly storm more over a big bill than he would over a little one, and let the cost be what it may, I am resolved that on the 17th I will for once in my life be not merely clothed but dressed.

"I have made up my mind," I say, briskly, "my gown shall be made of white gauze. It ought to be beautiful, ought it not?"

"Very."

He is not looking at me but straight before him, and there is a thwarted, glum look on his face.

"Are you cross?" I ask. "Are you thinking how frivolous and senseless I am to be thinking so much about my first ball?"

"No, child! I was wondering if it were possible for one to meet with a girl who had never"

"Never what?"

"Nothing."

A silence falls between us as we pace along the gravel walks, the coolness of the late afternoon all about us, the greenness of the